


The One Where Derek Can't Carry HIV -- And He's Human

by PJVilar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, College AU, Friends to Lovers, HIV prevention, HIV/AIDS, M/M, PEP - Freeform, Prep, Safer Sex, stigma - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJVilar/pseuds/PJVilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles doesn’t even process the words at first, because since when has Derek ever thought they should talk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Derek Can't Carry HIV -- And He's Human

**Author's Note:**

> PrEP is real, and a great tool for prevention. Find out more here: http://www.cdc.gov/hiv/prevention/research/prep/
> 
> Many thanks to my awesome friend and beta, SarahJeanne.

 

Stiles doesn’t even process the words at first, because since when has Derek ever thought they should _talk_? It’s only when Derek pulls back, his expression morphing back and forth between starving and embarrassed, that Stiles really hears what was said ten seconds ago.

 

“ _Now_?” he yells. He gestures at the general. . . everythingness of everything going at the moment: His own pants around his knees, Derek’s still on but with a pronounced bulge in Cocktown. Coats and shoes all over the floor where they shucked them off while stumbling to the bed, fused at the mouth.

 

“You couldn’t have brought this up _before_ you went for my neck?”

 

Derek takes a step back, looking mildly alarmed now, and yeah, maybe Stiles shouldn’t have yelled. Derek cranes his head forward and his eyebrows do that thing where they scrunch together and go up at the same time. It weirdly reassuring -- he’s still Derek, still Stiles’ best college friend. They’ve been in each other’s pockets for three years now, ever since Freshman orientation, in a kind of grumpy, sassy way.

 

Stiles had wanted him -- maybe been a little bit in love with him -- the whole time. Turns out Derek felt the same.

 

“You totally went for my ass first.”

 

Stiles scowls and the side of Derek’s mouth raises about a millimeter and things are feeling a little less dire all of a sudden.

 

“I will cede,” Stiles says, pulling his pants back up and buttoning them, but not bothering with the zipper, “that the two actions may have been simultaneous.” He takes a deep breath, holds it at the top and then lets it out. Derek waits, watching him intently.

 

“Okay,” Stiles says. He runs his hands through his hair with twitching fingers in an effort to stay otherwise composed. “We have to talk, like, you’re shutting this down, or--”

 

“No,” Derek says firmly. “Not shutting this down. Would like to get back to the part where your pants are coming off, actually.”

 

“I think we’ve established I’m on board with that,” Stiles says. He steps back and sits on the edge of his bed, then awkwardly pats the spot next to him for Derek to join him. It’s strange to think how loaded it is now, sitting side by side in his bedroom. They’ve done this a million times before, over coursework, tacos, shared bottles of whiskey. But now the whole wanting thing is out of the bag.

 

Derek sits and then adjusts himself in his pants, glaring at Stiles as if he knows the ten different jokes on the tip of his tongue. That’s probably accurate. After another long moment, Derek says:

 

“So, I probably should have mentioned this before. . . the groping started.”

 

Stiles openly laughs at that but bites down on his lower lip so at least there’s an effort at muffling it.

 

“But that was kind of unexpected,” Derek continues. He smiles a little then, warm and genuine, and Stiles lets his lower lip free to smile back.“So, you said, when we were coming upstairs, you wanted me to fuck you.”

 

“If you want! If you want, I mean, that’s not everyone’s thing. You know my mouth, man, it just goes off on its own, I didn’t--” and then, woah, there’s Derek’s hand cupping Stiles jaw. It feels pretty good.

 

“Stiles, please shut up.”

 

“Shutting up,” Stiles says, then narrows his eyes. “ _For now_.”

 

Derek chuckles and slides his hand down Stiles’ jaw to the side of his neck, then around to the back where he starts pressing and rubbing. Stiles moans and closes his eyes when Derek’s hand seems to drain the tension there, then moves along to his shoulder. “So,” Stiles says, trying desperately to focus. “Here I am, actually quiet. And then?”

 

“I do,” Derek says softly. “I do want to fuck you. So, I should tell you, I’m on PrEP. Do you know what that is?"

 

Stiles actually glances at the laptop for a second but it's too far away to Google the answer, and anyway, this doesn't sound good. "Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. I’m HIV negative. And what PrEP means is I take pre-exposure prophylaxis everyday. It’s an anti-retroviral drug, the kind that treats HIV. But I take it every day so I won’t get HIV, even if I’m exposed to it.”

 

Somewhere in there, Stiles moved a hand to Derek’s shoulder, bare because he’s in one of those goddamn tank tops, and he focuses on rubbing slow circles there while he catches up with this information.

 

“You never told me that,” Stiles says.

 

Derek shrugs. “What do you think?” he says. He seems cautious, like Stiles might think it’s a bad thing.

 

“Wow, so, you know you’re--” he catches himself from saying _clean_. He made that mistake with a hookup once and now it’s engraved in his mind, practically in gold leaf, that having HIV doesn’t mean you’re dirty.

 

“You’re negative, is what you’re saying -- me too, by the way -- and you can stay negative from medication. That’s really cool.”

 

“Exactly,” Derek says, leaning into his space. He rubs his nose along the side of Stiles’ neck, possibly over one of the hickeys he sucked into Stiles' skin on their way upstairs. Maybe it’s the feel of Derek’s teeth starting to graze in the spot that makes him particularly insane, but his thoughts click together right then.

 

“ _Raw_ ,” he says. “You can fuck me raw, holy shit --” Stiles pants. He pulls Derek’s hair -- gently, kind of -- to guide his mouth off his neck and back to his lips. It’s sweet, with a deep push of Derek’s tongue, but then Derek starts laughing.

 

“Yeah, I mean,” he says against Stiles’ lips, “I usually use condoms anyway, but. . ..” He runs his wide, warm hand down the front of Stiles’ t-shirt, then hooks his fingers underneath the hem. Stiles can feel goosebumps rise along his stomach and his cock surges at this fine turn of events. “I really thought you’d have a thousand questions about this.”

 

“I do,” Stiles says. “And you should show me your pills if you have them with you.” He raises his arms to be stripped of his shirt and enjoys the look of want that is mixing in with Derek’s relief. “But all my questions right now have to do with how well we’ll fit together.”

  
“ _Finally_ ,” Derek says, eyes sparkling, and pushes him back on the bed.


End file.
